


locked in

by sunnyangel (orphan_account)



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Amnesia, Blood, M/M, Stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25202137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/sunnyangel
Summary: Husband. Taeyong finds the word funny, as though there is something wrong with the way it was spelled or pronounced. He’s known the word before, heard it multiple times in his life. It is what his mother used to call his father before they got divorced, and eventually her new boyfriend after they got married. It is what his sister calls his brother-in-law as well. Husband. Yet, the word feels foreign to his tongue as though it came from a language he knows nothing about. Jung Jaehyun is his husband, or so he was told.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Lee Taeyong
Comments: 6
Kudos: 79





	locked in

“Taeyong?”

There was the familiar shuffling of feet from behind him, one he knows too well to recognize even from the faintest of sounds. He keeps his eyes closed, quietly basking under the sun that peeked through their curtains. The glass windows stayed closed, it always does. Jaehyun, in particular, is not fond of going outside. He hates the sun, he says, it’s too hot for his liking and it always ends up in sweat and grime. Taeyong supposes it could be the reason why he is too pale; sometimes even too blinding to look at.

“The weather’s nice today,” Taeyong slowly opens his eyes, a smile spreading across his thin lips as he sighs in content. He stares at the wide field from afar, wishing to be able to run across it even just for once. “The sky is clear…”

Jaehyun hums and pulls a chair towards him. The wooden legs scraped against the cement floor with an unsettling creak. “Do you want to go out?” He asks gently, sitting beside Taeyong’s white rocking chair.

Taeyong turns to him, a forlorn look in his eyes that seemed to always have been there since time immemorial. “Am I allowed to?” There was a hint of hope in his voice. “You don’t like it when I ask you to go outside.”

Jaehyun takes Taeyong’s hand in his, gently prying his fingers apart. His calloused hands felt rough under Taeyong’s soft palm, the coldness of it contrasting his warmth. “We can compromise,” he utters. He lifts their hands near his cheek, thumb gently drawing circles at the back of Taeyong’s hand. He places a soft kiss on his knuckles. “Do you really want to?”

Taeyong turns to look outside once again. Their small bungalow house stood alone in the middle of a field overlooking the mountains from the horizon. They have no neighbors; only the two of them together in the middle of nowhere. Sometimes, it gets too quiet even with their small chatters filling their almost empty house. “I want us to have a picnic over there,” he points outside where a small field of flowers swayed altogether with the wind. “Just a simple one. I want to take pictures, too…”

“Alright,” Jaehyun places a soft kiss on Taeyong’s temple. “Tomorrow, then.”

Taeyong turns to him, thanking him quietly in glee. Jaehyun leans to place a soft kiss on his lips, content with his husband’s satisfaction.

Husband. Taeyong finds the word funny, as though there is something wrong with the way it was spelled or pronounced. He’s known the word before, heard it multiple times in his life. It is what his mother used to call his father before they got divorced, and eventually her new boyfriend after they got married. It is what his sister calls his brother-in-law as well. Husband. Yet, the word feels foreign to his tongue as though it came from a language he knows nothing about. Jung Jaehyun is his husband, or so he was told.

He barely recalls anything from before aside from his childhood. He remembers his life from when he was younger, and he also remembers himself pursuing a degree in college to fulfill his mother’s wishes. He remembers them all, yet his memory seems to stop at a certain point in his life. He remembers attending university, but he does not recall graduating and getting a diploma. Did he apply for a job? Was he ever accepted? What happened to his family? Where is he? And most importantly, who is Jung Jaehyun in his life?

Jaehyun told him about what happened as much as he can. He was told that he got into an accident which caused him to lose some of his memories. Apparently, they met through a mutual friend during college and got married after two years of dating, right after they both graduated. Before the accident happened, they lived inside a small apartment at the heart of the city. Unfortunately, though, the incident forced them to move to somewhere far away to make it easier for him. When a memory is triggered or forced onto him, he was told, his head tends to ache uncontrollably which might cause him to permanently lose his memories altogether, and because of that, Jaehyun thought it would be better for the two of them to move away from everyone else. Taeyong does not doubt the story. Jaehyun treats him well, after all. He feels well taken cared of.

It was never easy at first, having the idea of living inside a home with a person you barely know. It took him months before he got to loosen up around Jaehyun, and although he is still quite uncertain of his feelings for the man, he knows he has his own duties as his husband. Jaehyun took care of him; it is only fair for him to show him love as well. Still, Jaehyun did not mind any of his hesitations. He never did. He’s already content with what they have, he tells Taeyong, and there is only so much he can do to help him with his condition.

With a sigh, he carefully stands up from his seat with Jaehyun supporting his back. He smiles shyly at him, seeing the action as unnecessary. “Thank you,” he says. The white wooden rocking hair creaked quietly from behind him.

The next day, Taeyong did his best to prepare for their small activity outside. As a child, he remembers going to a nearby park with his mother and sister with their own baskets full of food. His usually contains a variety of fruits and yogurt drinks while his sister and mother brought out the sandwiches and snacks. Their pantry in the bungalow is a bit under stocked, with only the necessities and a few fruits and snacks inside the cabinets and fridge, hence why he struggled a bit with the preparations. He’s offered multiple times to run errands with Jaehyun, yet he was repeatedly turned down. It is too dangerous for him, he was told. He mostly ends up staying alone inside their shared bedroom, the doors locked from the outside.

“Do you need any help?” Jaehyun places his fingers on Taeyong’s waist, an appreciative hum coming from his throat.

Taeyong cranes his head to the side, feeling the soft kiss being pressed gently onto his cheek. Jaehyun’s breath fanned over his skin warmly. “Cut the fruits for me?”

Jaehyun nods, leaning back and grabbing the already washed fruit from the kitchen counter. The two of them worked in a comfortable silence, something that rarely visited them in the earlier months. It took almost half a year before finally growing comfortable around his presence, thinking this was how it must have been back then.

The weather outside was decent at best, yet Taeyong felt as though he’s on top of the world the moment he stepped on the grass. He wished they could have gotten out of the house yesterday, when the sun is up and shining, but he thought it is better than nothing. The smell of dirt and dew filled his nostrils with delight, the familiar scent bringing him joy more than anything in his life. He feels a peculiar sensation; like something has been repeatedly flicking a switch inside of him. How long has it been since he went outside like this? More than a year, perhaps?

Jaehyun quietly sets the cloth onto the ground. Taeyong carefully scans his surroundings, looking for any signs of other people that could become their neighbors. The small town, as it seemed, looked emptier than it does from the insides of their house. He sits down on the cloth with his legs tucked underneath him.

“This is nice,” he smiles and looks up at Jaehyun who is still standing. “We should do this more often. What do you think?”

Jaehyun does not answer and instead proceeds to sit cross-legged from across him. Taeyong’s smile slowly fades away, not liking the idea of being ignored. Jaehyun has always been like that when the topic of going out more often resurfaces.

“Do you want me to buy you more fruits?” He asks Taeyong instead as he takes out the sliced fruits from their basket.

Taeyong nods before picking out a piece of apple from the tray. “Can I go with you next time, though? Just so I can pick different fruits since you always only bring me apples and oranges.”

“You don’t like them?”

“I do,” Taeyong shrugs nonchalantly. “But apples are making me constipated.”

“Oh,” Jaehyun takes a piece of bread and starts tearing it into small pieces. “I’ll buy you different ones next time, then.”

Taeyong purses his lips. “I can come with you,” he presses. “It’ll be easier since I already know what fruits I like. We can make smoothie bowls—“

“Taeyong.”

Taeyong immediately closes his mouth, knowing what might happen if Jaehyun loses his temper again. He hates seeing him mad—it’s like seeing a whole different person.

Jaehyun sighs and silently reaches out for his hand. “I’m sorry, love,” he says as he takes Taeyong’s hands in his. “I’m just worried for you.”

“I know,” Taeyong mutters. “But I can handle myself now.”

“I know you do, but it’s still dangerous. I can’t risk it.”

Taeyong nods once before averting his gaze onto the checkered cloth they’re sitting on. His head starts to throb lightly, and his hand immediately reaches out to press his fingers onto the long gash running along the back of his head. The scar felt rough underneath his fingertips, it always does. Jaehyun notices his troubled expression. “Does it hurt?” He asks quietly. “Do you want to go back inside now?”

Taeyong turns to the side and stares at the mountains running along the horizon. Cold wind flew past by them, clouds moving slowly along the sky. A sliver of light peeked through them, allowing a small bit of sunshine to graze their skin. He glances at Jaehyun sees him staring at him, eyes cold and curious.

“I’m fine…” He trails off.

Jaehyun shakes his head before proceeding to stand up, knowing his decision is already final. Taeyong could only sigh, knowing he cannot fight back. Jaehyun, as much as it makes him grow uncomfortable at times, wears the pants in the relationship. He wonders, more often than he would like to admit, if it had always been like that. He knows so little of Jaehyun even after more than a year of staying with him, how is he supposed to obey him at all times? Alas, it should always be like that, or so his mother says.

“You should rest for now,” Jaehyun tells him as they enter the house. Taeyong glances at the flight of stairs. “I’ll check up on you later.”

“Where are you going?”

“Out.”

Taeyong furrows his eyebrows at him and lets Jaehyun plant a kiss on his forehead without another word. Then, just like that, he is gone again, leaving him alone and locked out from the outside.

-

Taeyong has resorted to painting inside their room whenever boredom strikes him during random hours. He’s had his simple paintings on display all over the house by his husband. He thinks most of them are too bland and simple to be standing in full view at random corners of their home, but the small act of validation makes his heart swell with pride. Jaehyun thinks he is an outstanding painter, and although he thinks otherwise, he cannot help himself but to accept the compliments being thrown at him. If he were to be honest, though, the sensation of holding a paintbrush in between his fingers felt oddly misplaced. Jaehyun told him painting has always been one of his most beloved hobbies—yet, he remembers none of it at all. Not even from when he was younger. He supposes the memory is one of those who got lost and is yet to be found.

Today, he decided to paint a simple rose being held by a delicate hand. He decided to paint one in the hopes of making Jaehyun somewhat delighted even just for a quick moment during their quiet week. Jaehyun has always taken a liking to roses; he’s even gone so much as to describing the scar sitting beside Taeyong’s right eye as one. Unconsciously, he slowly runs his index finger onto the rough patch near his eye. Among the many things he cannot seem to recall, this is one of those. He does not remember having a scar beside his eye; in fact, he’s never had any. Jaehyun told him he got it from the accident. He wonders why aside from the gash behind his head and the scar near his eyes, he has not seen any more signs of imperfections on his body. No cuts and bruises. No other permanent scars.

He stares at his sketch for what seemed like an eternity, quietly nitpicking on this slight mistakes he’s made. He is never satisfied with any of his work. With a sigh, he diverts his gaze outside the window beside his canvas. He sees the trees gently swaying, possibly from the wind, and wonders if it’s chilly enough to wear his knitted sweaters. All of the windows inside his and Jaehyun’s rooms are locked, although he never knew why it is necessary. He misses feeling the wind on his skin.

“Lunch is ready, love.”

Taeyong’s silence is broken with Jaehyun’s deep voice. He turns away from the window to see his husband standing idly by the doorway, wearing a simple black apron around his torso. He smiles at him before setting down his still clean paintbrush.

“What are you painting?” Jaehyun walks inside the room, his feet roughly sliding across the wooden floor. He places a hand on Taeyong’s shoulder as he analyzed the sketch.

“A rose,” Taeyong looks up to him. “For you…”

“For me?” Jaehyun grins back at him and places a kiss on top of his head. “Thank you.”

The two ate their lunch silently, just as they always do every single day at the table. Jaehyun has made it a habit to not talk over food, and while Taeyong finds it odd for him to do so, he chose not to question it and instead finds himself growing more and more used to the deafening silence that stretches over them during mealtimes. It always bothered him—of how Jaehyun has set small rules to keep their home for fit for his standard. He wonders if it has always been like that. If their marriage had always revolved around constant silence and the abandonment of the outside world.

“Do you want to watch me paint?” He offers Jaehyun after he just finished washing the dishes. “Keep me company?”

“I would love to,” Jaehyun sighs. “but I need to run a few errands.”

Taeyong raises an eyebrow. “Again?”

Jaehyun only smiles at him, feeling guilty for leaving his husband hanging once again. They rarely do anything together these past few weeks.

“I’ll make it up to you next time.” Jaehyun says before pressing another kiss on his husband’s head.

Taeyong watched him lock the door from the outside.

-

Taeyong often tends to get curious, which results to him snooping around the house to get rid of his boredom. Usually, whenever Jaehyun leaves for his errands is when he tours around the house to see the same space he’s been living in for more than a year now. He’s never gone down to the basement, though. No. He knows never to visit it since it is practically Jaehyun’s own private space.

Taeyong pushes the door open, listening to its ominous creaks, and flicks on the light switch inside the small room below their house. He sees a few steps leading down to the gray-walled room, the cement a bit damp with all the pipes running along the ceiling. This wouldn’t be a bad idea, he thinks quietly to himself as he goes down the flight of stairs. He’s sure Jaehyun wouldn’t mind.

There were a few cardboard boxes lying around the place. He sees a wooden desk set at the far end corner of the room along with a lamp rested beside it. An old looking office chair stood limp near the other end of the room. Taeyong walks over to it, curiosity burning through his palms. What does Jaehyun even do in here?

He turns the on the lamp and glances at the scattered documents on the desk. He only sees a bunch of unnamed files and countless of polaroids scattered around the table.

“What are these?” He mumbles to himself and pick up the photos.

All of them were pictures of him in different days. Taeyong vaguely remembers any of them, but he was quite sure these were all taken during his senior year, a few days before graduation. There were some that seemed to have been taken inside an office he does not remember, and some were also taken inside an apartment. Taeyong goes over the other photographs and sees more pictures of him, all in different locations and days judging from his clothes. He flips one polaroid over, the one where he was at a restaurant, and sees a date scribbled in white ink at the right end corner of it.

**_February, 2019_ **

****

“More than year ago…” he mutters to himself.

He throws the polaroid away from him and grabs a small cardboard box resting atop of the table near the blank folders. Hastily, he tears it open and sees empty bottles of disinfectant alcohol, cottons and bandages drenched in blood, and a few medicinal tools with streaks of dried blood. He turns to his side and spots a bloodied nail bat.

“What the hell?” His heart starts to hammer inside his chest. Why does Jaehyun have all of these?

Panting, he grabs the unnamed files on the table and rips them open. All of them were filled with stacks of crumpled papers, some even ripped apart or stained with coffee. He picks one up from the pile and stares at the image in shock.

His own picture smiled back at his gruesome expression. His head starts to throb uncontrollably, the scar running along the back of his head making its presence more known. He stares at his picture—his graduation picture that he does not even remember taking—and then at the printed words below it.

**HAVE YOU SEEN THIS MAN?**

**Lee Taeyong, 23**

**Dark brown hair, Brown eyes, 5’9**

**Last seen outside his apartment at the night of March 7, 2019**

**IF YOU HAVE ANY INFORMATION, PLEASE CONTACT THE NEAREST POLICE STATION FROM YOU**

“Oh, my god,” he whispers, voice shaking. “Oh, god. Oh, my god.”

He hears the sounds of heavy footsteps from behind him. Gasping, he whips around and knocks over the box full of used medical materials. He feels a familiar presence lurk around the room, his movements too quick for him to react. Then, he feels pressure at the back of his head followed by a series of blinding pain wrapping around his head and down on his back.

“Taeyong,” he hears Jaehyun’s voice call softly to him. “You shouldn’t be here, love.”

Taeyong groans and slowly opens his eyes. He sees Jaehyun crouching over him with a smile, holding a bloodied nail bat in his hands.

“W-what…” He manages to croak.

Jaehyun tilts his head to the side and leans over him, lips pressing a soft kiss over Taeyong’s bleeding head. “You’ll be alright here,” he whispers to him. “I’ll take care of you.”

Taeyong whimpers before letting his eyes shut close. He hears Jaehyun’s footsteps growing fainter and fainter with each second that passed by.

“Sleep well, my love.”

* * *

Taeyong opens his eyes to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling. He sensed a movement from beside him, the pressure on his hand loosening.

“Yong? How are you feeling?”

He slowly turns his head to the side, eyesight blurry and unfocused. “Who… are you?”

“My name is Jaehyun,” the man smiles at him. “Your husband.”

Taeyong furrows his eyebrows as he lets his gaze travel onto the ceiling. He does not remember anything at all.


End file.
